


The Losing Battle

by xxAmilychanxx



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Desperation, F/M, Manipulation, Recovery
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-05
Updated: 2019-08-05
Packaged: 2020-07-31 17:54:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 693
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20119195
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xxAmilychanxx/pseuds/xxAmilychanxx
Summary: A multi-chapter fan fiction.-----------------------A broken man trying to piece his life together. Meanwhile, his feelings for the Talon geneticist destroy him, drive him mad and set him free.





	The Losing Battle

**Author's Note:**

> Hewwo! 
> 
> So, ever since Sigma got released, I immediately fell in love with this couple.  
The rating/warnings may change in future.  
The story takes place after Talon broke him out the secret government facility, during the time of his recovery.  
I will try to stick to Sigma's pov. {Also, this fanfic is heavily inspired by Max Payne's quotes.}  
It is a multi-chapter fan fiction; however, each chapter can be read as stand alone.
> 
> Any comments are more than welcome. Hope you enjoy! ♥

When Siebren was waking up, the world was a blur. What was clear in his dream, suddenly made no sense. There weren’t surreal rescues and no easy way outs. Reality felt like an unsolvable equation and a simple nightmare was one to blame.

He was sitting on the bed, bolted upright and out of breath. The dim overhead light intensified the shadows beneath his eyes until they become like bruises. His hands tightly grabbed the sheets underneath him as he took deep breaths to calm himself down. ‘Hold it together,’ he repeated in his head, in an attempt to shift to the actual reality. 

Now, he was awake. 

Everything finally slid into focus and Siebren caught a glimpse of the talon geneticist out of the corner of his eye. Her elegant footsteps echoed on the white tile floor, followed by her haunting voice. “Dr. De Kuiper, you look like you have seen a ghost,” She commented, closing the distance between them. Her heterochromatic eyes were locked on to his blue ones, searching for any signs of instability.

Her appearance had triggered a dislocation in his mind. He felt elation, but with it, fear of all the previous evils. A gaping hole. The past had its own ways of sneaking up on him. He would hear broken echoes of a melody, almost like a bad replay. Siebren wanted to get mad at Moira for being a reminder of this, even if it was all in his head.

“Dr. O'Deorain...” His eyes widened at her sight. “What brings you here, to my room?” He asked, unable to mask the curiosity lining in his words.

“I was just passing by. Heard your scream, and just wanted to make sure everything is under control,” she reasoned, her voice lacking any sort of empathy. It almost felt like she was reading everything off from a script. Cold and lifeless. 

Why was he expecting her to behave otherwise? 

“I’m alright,” Siebren quickly answered, averting his gaze away to hide his unreasonable disappointment. 

She didn’t buy it. “Define _alright,"_ she requested in return, challenging him. Upon receiving no response, she simply crossed her arms in front of her chest. “Was it the same nightmare?” she brought up, hitting the nail right on the head. 

“Observant as ever,” was all he could say, and that’s all she needed. Moira relaxed her stand, taking a seat by his bed. “Of course, just like a scientist should be” she reassured, showing her attentiveness in her own twisted way. She heard him draw in a deep breath, and with that, silence fell upon them.

It wasn’t the distance that separated people. It was silence and the lack of dialog. 

How long did they sit? He could never say, it felt like years but also like no time at all. In the end, it didn’t matter. The concept of time was subjective and relative to its observer.

Siebren was the first one to break the deafening silence. “Allow me rephrase myself. Why are you still here?” He clarified, narrowing his eyes and questioning her ongoing presence. He waited for her reply in tense quietude, becoming more repulsive with each passing second. To his surprise, Moira leaned forward and cupped his face, her long nails tickling his skin. Yet, despite her touch, his frame remained tense. His gaze was piercing, eyes filled with anger and pain. 

Didn’t he yearn for her touch? Then, why was he resisting?

Reflective, the female scientist looked long at him with an untranslated gaze. “I wonder,” she finally muttered with a tint of sympathy lining her voice. That answer sparked something in him. Was it hope, or just a mere delusion? He couldn't tell the difference. 

Moira was always the answer. His focal point. Her presence was like a remedy, disarming the ticking bomb inside his head while no amount of painkillers would disable it. He closed his eyes and leaned into her touch, hungry for her affection. All he wanted was to remain still, without slipping through the cracks of her cold embrace. He hated her for making him feel this way. 

Did he love her?

Was there a choice?


End file.
